Sailing down the Seine
by ElizaDolittle1
Summary: PrePD sequel to Punting on the Thames with CR! Affairs of state take the pair on a short vacation to France, sailing down the Seine.


_Authors note: This is a sequel to one of my previous C/R fanfic, Punting on the Thames. Jeanett here it so for you, I'm glad you liked it so much! Enjoy!_

**Disclaimer: I do not own these characters...but the plot is mine!**

OoOoO

The plane ride had been rough and unpleasant overall, Clarisse concluded. She would be meeting Rupert in France, where he had been for the past week on affairs of state. She had come later because of that, and also it was not safe to ride together in the same plane, at the risk of it crashing and losing both sovereigns of Genovia. She had been shown around the large estate they would be staying at while on this short vacation. It was a grand place and reminded her very much of the Winter Castle home in Genovia.

She had sat, utterly bored, in their suite, lounging around on the sofas and bed all day, waiting for Rupert, and it had been frightfully tiring. She had just begun to doze off when the suite door finally swung open. Clarisse sat up quickly and Rupert smiled to her. "Hello my love," he whispered and kissed her softly on the lips. He sat beside her and revealed the long-stemmed roses he had struggled to conceal behind him. "For you," he said, presenting them to her. She took them in her arms, inhaling their sweet perfume.

"They're beautiful Rupert, thank you," she said, her crystal eyes shimmering as she hid her face in the bouquet. Rupert gazed at her in awe. He was such a lucky man to have such a beautiful wife and queen; he hoped to spend the small time they had here in happiness. She seemed to glow with beauty, her perfect skin soft and perfectly coloured. If she wore not a stitch of makeup everyday it would matter not to him—she looked beautiful every moment of every day.

He snapped out of his thoughts and spoke of the matter he had forgotten about. "Tomorrow we will be sailing!" he said with excitement.

Clarisse didn't share as much of the enthusiasm as he had; she had been feely oddly tired lately and somewhat sick. She let the roses rest on her lap. "Where will be sailing?" she asked, toying with a frail petal in her palm.

"Down the Seine of course! With a long-time friend of the country's, Charles," he said, leaning back on the sofa and propping his feet up on the coffee table.

"Charles who?" she asked, standing and bring the roses with her to put them in water.

"De Gaulle," he finished, picking up the newspaper beside him and beginning to scan over the headlines in French.

Clarisse stopped herself from dropping the crystal vase she was holding. "Charles de Gaulle? You mean the President of France?! Rupert how could you forget to tell me this! I haven't met—I mean—" she scolded him, putting down the heavy crystal piece in her hands and approaching him.

He quietly apologized. It really wasn't that big of a deal was it? Besides, he had noticed her sudden mood swings lately, her scolding manner and then her soft understanding moments later.

"Well I suppose it will be alright," she softened, walking back to the vase and arranging the crisply coloured red roses in it. She had after all been Queen of Genovia for some time now, almost a year had passed since their wedding and coronation soon after. She was accustomed to meeting people of high status.

OoOoO

Clarisse stood next to Rupert, fiddling with the cuff of her sleeve. Rupert gently smacked her hand away from it. "Stop worrying!" he chuckled, straightening his back. She sighed and did the same, her tired body not wanting to obey her command to stand straight. Finally the President arrived, striding towards where they had been waiting at a quiet yacht club along the river where they would not be bombarded with the press. Short formal greetings were made and they headed out to the pier. At the end a long sleek white yacht rocked against the small waves hitting it.

After idle chatter next to the yacht, they finally boarded it, Rupert gladly assisting Clarisse. When they entered the cabin area the warm air hit their faces leaving behind the slightly chilly breeze outside. Clarisse and Rupert sat next to each on the small two-person sofa against the wall. The French President sat across from them in a comfortable looking armchair. Charles and Rupert held a completely dull conversation about a topic she couldn't even remember. She felt dizzy and sick to the stomach. Rupert and Charles were having a drink, Rupert swishing around the liquid in his glass, the small iced cubes clinking at the sides. Clarisse had settled with a cold glass of water, not wanting to upset her stomach anymore. Since she had found out just a short while ago that she was expecting the heir the Genovian throne, it seemed she felt even sicker in the mornings knowing what exactly was happening to her body. She hadn't told Rupert yet because it wasn't safe to alert the public either if the child were to be suddenly grievingly lost. The doctor that had been in the family for years, in fact the same doctor who had delivered Rupert, had told her that she was a month and tiny bit along. She slumped back into her spot on the sofa, her hands loosely lying across her stomach. Rupert's eye caught this movement and he sharply watched her out of the corner of his eye. She quickly looked away, trying not to meet his eye, for she had promised herself not to tell him for a while longer. He dismissed the thought she might have suggested and continued speaking with Charles.

Finally Clarisse was brought into the conversation talking about charities on the rise in Pyrus. Clarisse worked very hard to stifle her laughter when they changed the subject to oil. She realized it was not the Frenchman's fault that his accent thickly engulfed his words. She knew enough French to understand that word he was saying was in French while still trying to speak it in English. She bit her lip and she giggled uncontrollably at his use of 'ze' for the word 'the'. She took a gulp of water to hopefully swallow away the laughter. Rupert had noticed her attempts not to laugh and merely shook his head.

Clarisse couldn't speak, as the laughter grew stronger inside her. Rupert was playing a nasty trick on her by bringing up topics with words he knew the President would have difficulties saying. Her eyes ready to water from how hard she really wanted to let out a laugh, Rupert praised himself at a job well done. Her voice cracked hoarsely as she spoke, "Excuse me, I'm just going to step outside for a moment and get some fresh air, I'm feeling rather dizzy," she said politely, standing and walking to the cabin door. Rupert smirked as she left the room.

Outside Clarisse could only giggle, if she were to let out a ghastly blast of a laugh the crew of the yacht would think the Queen be mad as a March hare! She walked around the edges of the yacht, the small rope that lined the edge of it. She stood looking over the Seine, the outlines of buildings they passed by. She thought about the child she was now caring, how it would be subjected to the life of leading and always being in the public eye. She hadn't spoken to Rupert about it yet, but she wanted no part in having any children of theirs brought up by help. They would do it as any other Genovian would by themselves lovingly. She slowly traced her finger over abdomen, the bottom of her skirt trying to decide which way to sway in the breeze. She let her land rest firmly on her tummy now, letting out a sigh as she gazed out over a misty Paris.

She had fast learned how to live as Queen of Genovia, alongside the many rules and obligations she had to follow. But what was more important was how ruthlessly the Parliament discussed an expected heir. So senselessly they treated it in Parliament, Rupert had told her. She did not like that way of discussing the future heir she was expected to have. It brought a frown to her face every time she thought about it and she shook her head. It hadn't really sunken in yet, the expectations of her life she would have to meet. Now that she was in fact expecting, it had only occurred to her and made her wonder if she would be a good mother. Would she raise her son or daughter well to be a kind and giving person? Would they except that they would someday have to rule a country? Would they rebel? It worried her that the Parliament was so cruel and was harsh to expect a male heir first. What if she had a darling little girl? It would make no difference to either Rupert or her, but Parliament would have nasty words for Rupert to discuss about.

When Rupert's father had passed not long ago, he had told them both encouraging words of wisdom about ruling over such a beautiful country. He had told them to stand strong against the Parliament in their moments of cruelty and so they had done.

She heard a faint click behind her and turned to see Rupert coming out of the cabin. She approached him before he could move to the railing. A small smile weakly came to her lips, and Rupert knew she had something on her mind. She had promised herself not to tell him, but she couldn't keep it hidden any longer. They slowly walked arm in arm around the other side of the cabin, opposite the side Clarisse had been standing before.

Rupert turned to her seriously and spoke sincerely. "Clarisse, are you well? You seem quite out of sorts lately, distant and far away. Always in your thoughts! Please tell me and I'll try to fix whatever is wrong."

She smiled sincerely, knowing how much he really cared for her, his dedication making her want to tell him the truth even more. The stopped walking, Rupert's back to the rope edge that barely even stood higher than their knees. She looked up at him, her hands at his chest. "I was going to wait a short while to tell you," she looked down, speaking slightly worried at his possible reactions.

"Yes, yes," he urged her on while brushing away the out-of-place hair on her forehead.

"Well," she said, looking up and certainly knowing how excited he looked, she was sure he already had concluded the answers, "Parliament won't have to complain anymore; I'm going to have a child."

Rupert's arms surrounded her in a loving embrace; he was so excited over the recent news that he had suspected all along. He stepped back slightly, bending his knees and putting a warm hand against her stomach. "Rupert!" she whispered, and he straightened up, "We mustn't! This must remain a secret until it's safe for a news paper and press releases, you must promise me you will try to keep this a secret!"

He nodded enthusiastically like a child, his smile wide and proud. "I can't believe this!" he said, stepping back farther than before, "I'm going to be—" But the rounded edge of the boat under Rupert's foot seemed to slip as he lost his footing. His arms swiped the air, trying to grab some invisible rope, perhaps, as he fell backwards and an exploding splash came from the cold water.

"Rupert!" she shrieked, moving close as she could to the edge without joining him in the river, looking down at his bedraggled self in the murky water. Shouts came suddenly from all around her, the crew had heard the splash and were shouting out "Ze King! Ze King!" in heavily accented English. Clarisse covered her mouth to suppress her laughter again at this awkward situation. She backed away to allow the crew to help him out of the water. From the shore she could see the press snapping pictures wildly of the king climbing back on the boat. More crew arrived with towels and blankets showered over Rupert, the president apologizing rapidly in French and English. It seemed the more people crowding around Rupert pushed Clarisse farther away, she stepped back as a man almost elbowed her. Her heel wobbled on the rounded edge of the yacht, loosing her footing just as Rupert had. A less heavy splash sounded as she hit the chilly water. All efforts turned to Clarisse flailing about in the water, the photographers on shore going nuts with the opportunities for shots. She could hear Rupert's calls over the waves; one rang through though which made her heart stop beating, "The baby! The baby!"

The crew looked at each other awkwardly, they knew it had been his mistake at yelling this out. Back on shore the press were having a field day snapping pictures of the soaking queen, yelling out questions about how long she had been expecting. Rupert was standing still knowing he had done wrong, Clarisse was pushed closer to him, both of them tightly wrapped in blankets. Clarisse shook her had with a playful glare; he tilted his head and mouthed 'sorry'.

They were shooed into the warm cabin, the president leaving to give them a few moments alone. Clarisse was first to flop down on the sofa, her wet hair dribbling water onto her soaking clothing. Rupert sat next to her quietly, his head hanging as he sulked over his mistake. "Rupert," she said gently, and he looked up, "It's alright. They'll all find out eventually."

He smiled at her understanding nature. It was quite the sight with both of them dripping wet all over the place. "You will make a wonderful mother," Rupert said, as they leaned back into the sofa, arms around each other.

"And you a wonderful father," she said, her head resting on his shoulder. The silence was not odd or eerie to them; the both knew what they were thinking about. Their child, who would be the future king or queen of this country; their child that they would raise together. Clarisse's hand lay on top of her abdomen, Rupert's slowly joining hers. Clarisse looked at him with shimmering eyes. It wasn't love they shared, but it was close enough.


End file.
